


Brass Knuckles and Garrote

by m_s_b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Punk Jim, Punk Sebastian, Squat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_s_b/pseuds/m_s_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian ventures into the new territory and finds a diamond in the rough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Difficult Beginnings

Sebastian walked slowly down the road, carefully studying the row of houses, looking for a right one. He heard about this squat in a pub back in London - the guy with whom he drank beer after a gig told him that it was the best place in whole Manchester. So, when he got bored of London, Sebastian took the first train to Manchester and here he was, looking for this anarchist heaven.

The neighbourhood was oddly quiet. It was a warm, sunny day and yet he saw only a bunch of kids speeding up the street on their bikes. However, one of the houses seemed to be more… alive. Intrigued, Seb came closer, stopping at the edge of a lawn.

There was a man sitting on a chair in front of the house, his legs propped on a low brickwall. The man was young, probably in his early twenties, his dark hair cut really short on the sides and styled in the middle in a fitting manner. He was engrossed in a thick book, sipping from a beer bottle he held in his right hand. He looked comfortable and at ease like he belonged there and Sebastian approached him slowly, feeling shy out of sudden.

‘’Scuse me...’

‘Yeah?’ The brown eyes looked at him from the pages and Seb felt his stomach flip. ‘What do you want?’

‘I, umm,’ he stammered, lost for words. ‘I’ve heard that th-there’s a squat here.’

‘Yeah, so?’ The man looked him up and down and sighed heavily. ‘Damn, you’re one of those rich pillocks, aren’t you? Bored with bathing in your Mummy and Daddy’s bloody money. I could smell you from a mile,’ he scrunched his nose.

‘What? No, I’m not,’ Sebastian shook his head. ‘I’ve told you - I’ve heard that this place here is the best one in Manchester and I’d like to stay here,’ he finished a bit clumsily.

‘Whatever,’ the man returned to his book. ‘I give you two weeks top before you return to your Mama and to your comfortable life. Go to the kitchen and ask for Holly,’ he added when Sebastian didn’t move. ‘She’ll show you around.’

‘Thanks,’ Seb mumbled, his eyes still fixed on this captivating man. Slowly, he made his way into the house.

 

By the time Sebastian’s third week in the squat ended, he was mostly accustomed to its daily routine. It didn’t take Seb long to notice that, with many people coming and going, the house itself had no more than ten permanent residents.

There was Holly, a friendly girl with dimples not much older than Sebastian and her brother, Mark, a bit silly twenty-year-old, but overall a nice guy. Mary and George were a couple of star-crossed lovers; they ran away together from their hometown where his family would never accept her, a girl raised by a single mother. Tony was a bit of a loner, often walking around the city by himself. However, he was well-liked and his skills and handedness as group’s handyman earned him respect. Seb still didn’t know much about Martin and Clyde, players and best friends who enjoyed all the perks of the nightlife, picking up girls and, in case of Martin, also boys.

Being in her early thirties, Jen was one of the oldest inhabitants of the squat. Although her family was from Manchester, she chose to leave home and live in the squat. From time to time, Jen would meet with her sister, Amy, and politely decline her invitations to move back with her family. There was also Alice, a thin small woman in her mid-fifties, whose motherly care and protectiveness made her the maternal figure of the squat; others addressed her as ‘Nana’, half jokingly, half affectionately.

Finally, there was James. Beautiful, wonderfully tough and independent James with surprisingly big brown eyes, who was the first person welcoming him in this place. Well, maybe ‘welcoming’ wasn’t the right word - after all James called him a rich pillock - but Sebastian felt drawn to him almost immediately. There was something magnetic about this man, something which made him the focus of attention whenever he entered the room and others seemed to notice it, too.

‘You know,’ Mark said to him in confidence during his first week. They were on their way to get some more beer and maybe some food. ‘I’ve heard that Jameson glassed a guy when he was 16.’

Amused, Sebastian only nodded. However, when Mark repeated his story during their evening out with Martin and Clyde, they both nodded in agreement.

‘And I’ve heard,’ Clyde added, ‘that he did some time in prison.’

And there were more: more gossips, more histories ranging from Jim’s sex life (‘They say that he slept with over fifty girls,’ someone whispered to Sebastian during a gig) to his mysterious past (‘His parents were junkies, you know, forced him to steal and beg to get money for another fix.’). Mark seemed to know almost all of them and was always eager to share them with Sebastian.

‘You know,’ he whispered to Sebastian when the two of them were helping Nana in the kitchen, ‘we suspect that Jameson ran away from home because he offed his Ma and Da.’

‘Good Lord, Mark,’ Nana slapped his arm. ‘Aren’t you a bit too old for believing in such cock-and-bull stories? Now, go!’ She waved her hand. ‘Go and find yourself something useful to do!’

‘Fine, fine,’ Mark raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘Don’t get so upset, Nana.’ He left the kitchen, wiping his hands against his trousers. Nana shook her head.

‘Mark can be so naive and he repeats everything without thinking,’ she smiled to Sebastian. ‘I hope you don’t believe in all those stories, dear.’

‘Nah,’ Seb shook his head, smiling. ‘They seemed too… fantastic to me.’

Nana laughed.

‘They are, aren’t they?’

‘But he really did run away from home, didn’t he?’ Sebastian glanced at the woman. ‘James, I mean.’

‘Yes,’ Nana admitted, sighing, ‘yes, he did. I was here when he came to us. He was barely fourteen back then, poor child, and so scared.’ She gave Sebastian a small smile. ‘I know it’s hard to imagine Jim scared, but I assure you: he may seem tough and independent, but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel anything.’

‘He feels anger,’ Seb murmured under his nose. Nana slapped his hand.

‘Don’t try to sass me, boy. You know exactly what I mean.’

‘I know,’ the blond smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, Nana.’

 

 


	2. Stalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian becomes a part of James's life, regardless of what the latter thinks of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonderful teehewz made an amazing poster/cover for this story. You can find it [here.](http://teehewz.tumblr.com/post/113366311938/a-little-poster-cover-for-m-s-bs-newest)
> 
> For more punk!Jim and punk!Seb art check the rest of her [blog.](http://teehewz.tumblr.com)

James ran up the stairs and into a small room he occupied. Right now all he wanted was a nice nap - he needed to recharge his batteries before the night out in the city. Smiling at the prospect, he stepped into the room only to stop in his track at what he saw.

‘Moran,’ he hissed, narrowing his eyes as glared daggers at the blond sitting in the middle of the room, flipping through one of Jim’s books. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

‘Looking through your books,’ Sebastian replied simply. ‘You have quite an impressive collection here - astronomy, quantum physics...’

‘You know fucking well that’s not what I’m talkin’ about,’ Jim balled his hands into fists. ‘What are you doing in my bloody room. I told you loud and clear-’

‘You yelled it at the top of your lungs,’ Sebastian laughed.

‘And yet it still didn’t get through your thick skull! Get the fuck out of here!’ Jim quickly toed off one his boots and threw it at Sebastian. The blond ducked, dodging the boot.

‘Fine, fine.’ He was still smiling, which unnerved James. ‘I’m leaving.’ He stood up and walked out of the room, brushing against Jim when he passed him.

His room empty, James rolled his shoulders, finally relaxing. That was until he heard Moran calling him from the hall.

‘Anger marrs beauty, you know.’ Jim could picture him smirking stupidly. Angered again, he toed off his other boot and threw it in the direction from which the voice came, but Moran had already left. James groaned and climbed into his hammock - right now he couldn’t be bothered with picking up his boots.

This whole thing with Sebastian was driving him up the walls. This moron not only didn’t know a thing about privacy, but also seemed to develop a crush on him. At first it was nothing serious. Sebastian just observed him, his eyes following James’s every move like a lost puppy looking for its master. However, soon Moran grew more confident and more obnoxious. He started to approach Jim, flirting and complementing him in a way that made Jim’s skin tingle and he didn’t like that. And then it got even worse: Sebastian broke into his room when he was away and rummaged through his things - flipped through his books, read his notes and James really didn’t want to know what he did with his clothes. And it didn’t matter how many warnings he gave the blond (‘Sebastian, I’m telling you, fuck off.’) and threats he made (‘I’m fucking serious, Moran! Next time I see you in my room, I’ll fucking castrate you!’) - it all rolled off Moran like water off duck’s back. And as if that wasn’t enough, this idiot started serenading under his window as if they were in some bloody romcom.

Jim shifted, trying to get comfortable in his hammock, when something crumbled under his head. Sighing, he lifted his head and pulled out a piece of paper.

‘What the…’ He mumbled, smoothing the mysterious page. He glanced at it, expecting his own scribbles, but what he saw instead made him frown. The whole page was covered with lines of familiar, loopy handwriting.

‘Another one.’ Jim scrunched his nose. ‘When does he have time to write these?’ He mumbled to himself, his eyes scanning the text.

 _You take my breath away,_ it said, _like a garrote wrapped tight around my neck. You’ve cut my heart out and ate it raw, but all I think of is that you look good with all this red on you. I watch my own blood drip down your chin and on your chest, leaving traces I want to walk. I feel no pain, just this weird sense of completion - in this twisted sense I’m in you and you’ve been inside me as your sharp, dirty fingernails dug deeply into my chest-_

Feeling his cheeks heat up, James stopped reading and pressed the page to his chest. He had already had a box full of those, those… Poems? Letters? Confessions? Jim didn’t really know how to call them. All he knew was that every time Sebastian left him one, something fluttered in his chest and he hated that feeling.

Ever since Moran moved in to the squat, James felt, well, conflicted. On the one hand, he despised Sebastian - he was just a spoiled rich brat who didn’t know the harsher side of life and for whom this whole thing was just a whim. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Moran seemed to think that he was the centre of the universe and his behaviour, especially towards him, was rather obnoxious and most of the time Jim would be more than happy to kick his sorry arse. On the other hand, he would be lying if he said that it wasn’t a nice hot piece of arse. Sebastian was handsome and the moment James laid his eyes on the blond, he knew that his emotional life, so far almost non-existing, was going to be turned upside down. Sebastian’s evident crush on him didn’t really help. And the last thing Jim wanted right now was falling for this, this rich self-absorbed bafoon.

Sighing heavily, James rolled on his side and pressed his face to the pillow. He should stop thinking about that, if he wanted to get some rest before the evening.

 

James glanced quickly over his shoulder. The street behind him seemed empty, but he was sure he heard steps; someone was following him. True, he had recently pissed some people off, so maybe it was one of them. The man smiled to himself. If someone was going after him, they were going to regret that.

Closing his fingers around his switchblade, he sneaked into a narrow alley and waited, hidden in the shadows. The steps became louder and, when a silhouette of a man appeared at the mouth of the alley, Jim jumped onto him. He grabbed the man and pulled him into the alley, shoving him against the brickwall and pressing his switchblade to the man’s throat.

‘Wrong person to stalk, mate,’ he hissed, pressing the knife closer. To his surprise, the man just laughed, a familiar breathy laughter he immediately recognized. Moran. Angered and surprised, James stepped back and closed his switchblade.

‘What’s your damage?! ’ He punched the blond in the arm. ‘I could have bloody hurt you, you fucker!’

Sebastian only smiled and followed the other man back to the brightly lit street.

‘Come on, Jimmy.’ His smile broadened. ‘You would never do that.’

The nickname made Jim’s blood boil.

‘Don’t call me that!’ He threw himself at Seb, his fists clenched.

Sebastian was quicker, though. He caught Jim by the wrists and pulled him closer, so their noses were touching. It only seemed to anger James more.

‘Let go of me!’ He flailed, trying to free himself, but Sebastian’s grip was too strong.

‘You’re beautiful when you’re angry, you know,’ the blond stated boldly, still smiling. ‘I really like you like that.’ He brushed his nose against Jim’s.

Heart fluttering in his chest, James finally freed himself.

‘You’re fucked up!’ He screamed at the top of his lungs, fuming with anger. ‘Why don’t you just fucking leave me alone?! Stop going to my room, stop taking my things and stop bloody stalking me! And if you don’t, I will fucking end you! Understood?!’ Without waiting for Sebastian’s answer, he turned on his heel and ran back to the squat.


	3. Comfort of Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb feels discouraged and seeks comfort in the arms of a stranger.

The place was loud and swarming with people. Seb was leaning against the wall, sipping his beer and observing people moving together in what seemed as an almost hypnotic trans. He envied their cheerfulness and carefreeness as right now Sebastian felt like shit. He was contemplating grabbing his third bottle of beer, when a slim, dark-haired stranger stopped next to him.

‘Hi,’ the stranger smiled flirtatiously. ‘Why such a handsome man stands here all alone? Playing a hard-to-get wallflower?’ He arched his brow in an uncannily familiar manner.

‘Nah,’ Sebastian forced a smile. ‘No one asked me to dance. Until now.’

‘Good for me then,’ the young man’s smile widened as he took Seb’s hand and led him to the dancefloor.

The crowd was wild - moving in waves like a living sea, bringing the two of them closer and closer together. In the mixture of darkness and bright, blinking lights the stranger looked almost like James. Well, a taller, uglier, less sexy James lookalike, but, truth to be told, that was probably all he could ever get. Jim’s last words were still ringing in Seb’s ears ( _You’re an idiot, Moran, a show-off! I’d have to hit my head really hard to let you lay your dirty hands on me!_ ) when the fake-James lent forward and whispered:

‘Let’s go back to your place.’

For a brief moment Sebastian hesitated, considering the offer: his heart still belonged to James, but he really wanted to be close with somebody, to feel wanted and desired and Jim wasn’t going to give him that. So he nodded and pressed a quick kiss to not-James’s lips.

‘Yeah, let’s go,’ he whispered back and pulled the man out from the club.

All way back to the squat, Seb was all over fake-James, kissing his lips, face and neck, while his hands wandered over his body, grabbing his arse.

‘W-wow,’ not-James whispered between kisses, responding eagerly to Sebastian’s touch. ‘You seemed shy, but look at you,’ he let out a breathy giggle and Seb joined him. Still giggling, they finally reached the house. Fake-James threw a quick glance on the building.

‘It looks like a lair of a real man,’ he purred, wrapping his fingers around Sebastian’s bicep. ‘I hope you won’t knock me out and steal my kidneys or something.’

Seb laughed.

‘Your kidneys are safe, but I can’t say that about other parts of your body,’ he squeezed the man’s buttock. ‘Now, let me take you to my chambers.’

Laughing quietly, they climbed the stairs. When they reached the top of the stairs, Sebastian pulled not-James closer and kissed him passionately. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Jim standing in the open door leading to his room, his face even paler than usual. Seb smiled into the kiss, smug with himself; however, he couldn’t help the sharp pang of guilt and sadness piercing his heart.

_It could have been you_ , he thought, closing his eyes. _It should be you. I wish it was you. I want it to be you._ He nipped at fake-James’s lower lip. J _ust say a word and I will kick him out._

The only thing he heard, though, was the deafening slam of the closing door.

‘Come, tiger,’ not-James whispered, breaking the kiss. ‘Let’s have some fun.’

 

The room was dark, but the faint light of a distant streetlamp somehow managed to get in, making it possible for Sebastian to study the cracks on the ceiling. He was laying on his back with fake-James’s arms and legs wrapped around him. The other man was breathing deeply and steadily, lulled to sleep by a post-coital bliss, but Seb couldn’t sleep as every time he closed his eyes, he saw James’s - the real James’s - pale face. His conscience was giving him a hard time, despite the fact he didn’t do anything wrong. He and James weren’t a couple so he wasn’t cheating on him, and yet he felt as if he abused his trust.

The fact that it was a pretty good shag didn’t help either. Although he didn’t want to admit that to himself, celibacy didn’t work for him and his constant obsession over James didn’t make it easier. Not to mention that fake-James was quite a skilled lover. Sighing heavily, Sebastian covered his eyes with the back of his hand, hoping that the sleep will finally come.

 

Despite Seb’s worries, the morning after wasn’t nearly as awkward as he feared. They chatted friendly as they dressed and when Sebastian saw him out, not-James thanked him for ‘a wonderful night’ and kissed him on the cheek. Smiling slightly Seb closed the door and padded to the kitchen where he was greeted with whistles and shouts.

‘Sebastian, you dog!’ Martin patted his back while Clyde gave him a wide smile.

‘What?’ Seb grumbled.

‘Nothing,’ Martin smiled.

‘You Casanova,’ Mark added, taking a sip of his beer.

Sebastian rolled his eyes.

‘Everyone deserves a good fuck,’ he stated simply. ‘Don’t you think?’

‘Geez, Seb, we’re not judging you or anything, mate,’ Mark raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

‘And judging by the last night sounds, the fuck was really good,’ Clyde added.

‘Gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,’ Sebastian mumbled, smiling slightly as he opened a bottle of beer and took a sip. ‘And don’t look at me as if I was the only one to bring a date home.’


	4. He's Probably Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James's absence worries some, and surprises few but what did he achieve? Other than a gigantic moral hangover in Seb, that is...

Without making a sound, James sneaked into the squat through the back door. He tiptoed through the empty kitchen and stopped in the hall, listening intently; the only thing he could hear, though, was the creaking of the old floorboards. Such eerie silence wasn’t anything unusual at this time of the day - Jim would be really surprised if he bumped into someone at the crack of dawn. It was for the best, though; he didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now, explaining his four-day-long absence.

Quietly and stealthily like a cat, he climbed the stairs, remembering to omit that one squeaking step, and slipped into his room. With a heavy sigh, James closed the door and toed off his boots before he climbed into his hammock with the last ounce of energy. Burying himself under blankets he let out another sigh. He felt exhausted, his whole body aching, but at least the pain dulled this emotional storm going on in his head. Glad he didn’t have to think about Sebastian and all this mess of feelings, Jim closed his eyes and let the sleep overcome him.

 

Sebastian didn’t really know what to do with himself. It had been two days since he last saw Jim and, against his own better judgement, Sebastian was worried. It didn’t help that other inhabitants, when questioned about the matter, didn’t seem to be concerned about Jim’s absence.

‘He does that sometimes, you know,’ George said when Sebastian asked him and Mary. ‘Disappears for a day or two and then returns like nothing happened.’

‘I think that he just needs some alone time every now and then,’ Mary added. ‘Don’t worry, Sebastian.’

‘I thought that you’re over Jameson, Moran,’ Clyde nudged Sebastian teasingly while Mark and Martin grinned stupidly.

Sebastian huffed angrily.

‘It doesn’t mean that I’m not worried about the reckless little bugger.’

‘He’s probably fine,’ Martin waved his hand. ‘Jameson is the toughest guy I’ve ever seen.’

_Yeah,_ Sebastian thought, _but it doesn’t mean that he won’t bruise or bleed when you hit him._

‘Just let me know if you see him, okay?’ He said instead and left the trio to themselves.

 

The only people who shared Sebastian’s worries were Jen and Nana.

‘Good lord, Clyde and Martin are cretins. I don’t know why Mark is hanging out with them,’ Jen stated simply when Sebastian repeated her and Nana his conversation with the three men.

‘Idiots,’ Nana shook her head. ‘Jim may seem tough, but he isn’t indestructible. And they forget that Jim is still a child. He may be twenty,’ she added when Sebastian opened his mouth to protest, ‘but he is still a child. Whom you’re goin’ to believe, sweetheart - me or those jackasses?’ She quirked her brow.

‘You,’ Sebastian mumbled, feeling stupid out of sudden. He knew that Nana had taken care of James since the boy was fourteen, before he evolved and transformed himself from a scared, little Jimmy into a tough Jameson who loved risk-taking and a good fight. So if Nana was worried, she must have had her reasons.

‘Good answer, sonny,’ she smiled and handed him a chipped mug filled with hot tea. She took a sip of hers before speaking again. ‘He wouldn’t drop off the radar like that, you know, even for two days. We would hear about him, catch a glimpse every now and then.’

 

Nana’s words were still ringing in Sebastian’s ears two days later when he was lying in his makeshift bed staring at the ceiling. He felt responsible for this whole situation, guilt pushing him to wander around the city checking every dark alley, empty basement and abandoned building, but to no avail. He didn’t know how to feel about the fruitlessness of his search: on the one hand, he was relieved that nothing bad had happened to Jim; on the other, though, it could mean that he was looking in wrong places. There was also another possibility, the one about which Sebastian didn’t want to think: maybe he couldn’t find James because James didn’t want to be found.

Unable to sleep, Seb rolled out of his bed, pulled on his sneakers and quietly left his room. He was heading to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water and, driven by habit rather than hope, peeked into James’s room. However, instead of the expected cold emptiness, there was a small figure curled on the hammock and under the blankets. James. James was back.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious how the boys look like in this AU, check these wonderful artwork by equally wonderful teehewz [here](http://teehewz.tumblr.com/post/109990423548/as-a-result-of-my-last-visit-at-m-s-bs-place-i), [here](http://teehewz.tumblr.com/post/110640025778/ok-i-crawled-out-of-bed-to-bring-you-this-this), [here](http://teehewz.tumblr.com/post/112169761023/i-added-a-companion-piece-to-that-punk-jim-from) and [here](http://teehewz.tumblr.com/post/112070747148/nice-to-meet-you).


End file.
